


Between The End And Where We Lie

by parsleylion



Category: Linkin Park
Genre: ALL THE ANGST, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-08
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2019-01-10 16:09:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,971
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12302772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/parsleylion/pseuds/parsleylion
Summary: It was just another drive to another hotel after another show. It wasn’t supposed to end like this...





	Between The End And Where We Lie

It starts with the burning shell of a bus. Twisted metal melting and submerged in flames. The road is blocked for miles in either direction, drivers standing with their doors open and looks of utter fear spread across their faces. Sirens can be heard in the distance, accentuated by flashing lights and roaring engines. The junction is gridlocked, cars and trucks having screeched to a halt, their headlights shining out toward the carnage.

  
  


It was just another drive to another hotel after another show.

  
  


It wasn’t supposed to end like this.

  
  


+

  
  


Rob cracks open an eye. The lights have gone out. He’s still in his bunk, his hands are still gripping onto his blankets the same way they were when he felt the bus lurch and heard the sound of tyres scraping against asphalt. He takes a deep breath and looks to his right. He wasn’t expecting to see the black night sky or trails of smoke but it’s what greets him.

  
  


“Oh shit,” He breathes out, “Oh fucking shit…”

  
  


“Rob?”

  
  


He jumps, craning his neck around.

  
  


“Rob is that you?”

  
  


A pair of eyes are looking up at him from the bunk below, followed by a hand which slides upward to him.

  
  


“Joe,” Rob grabs his hand, “Joe what happened? Are you okay?”

  
  


“I can’t move,” Joe smiles, “I get the feeling the bus crashed.”

  
  


Rob laughs. He’s not sure why but he laughs and Joe begins to join in.

  
  


The thing is, Rob’s legs are trapped and he can’t free them and Joe, he can’t feel a fucking thing and all he can do is grip onto Rob’s hand.

  
  


And all the pair of them can do is laugh until tears are streaming down their faces.

  
  
  


+

  
  


Brad can hear people laughing in the distance. He’s not sure why. He wonders if the TV is still playing in the back of the bus. He still holds his coffee mug in his right hand and is staring at it, wondering why it didn’t smash into smithereens. There’s a pile of debris around him and the smell of gasoline.

  
  


Brad can feel his body shaking but he can’t open his mouth to call out for help. There’s an empty spot beside him which ten minutes ago, before the bang and the flip and the rolling over and the screams and the screech of breaks was filled by Phoenix.

  
  


Now all Brad can see is Phi’s hand, limp and pale and not attached to an arm. It looks like a prop for a bad Halloween film, Brad thinks to himself, holding his mug up toward the exposed side of the bus and scrutinizing it for any sign of a chip.

  
  


Nothing.

  
  


He looks down to his own body and except for a drop of blood on his left hand and a rip in his black waistcoat there is no damage to be seen of. He looks around what is left of the kitchenette, sees burnt out cupboards and an upturned kettle. Phi has to be in here somewhere.

  
  


So he shifts around, heart racing when the carcass of the bus rocks a little; heart nearly jumping from his throat when he sees the pair of eyes staring at him. Motionless, unblinking. Brad feels bile rising from his stomach as the pale, expressionless face sits behind him; a head without a body.

  
  


Brad backs away in horror, turns around and begins to panic. He tries to hoist himself up toward the hole that’s been blown into the side of the upturned bus but his feet slip and his hands find nothing to grip onto.

  
  


He falls back down against the wreckage, watching the smoke clouds get thicker and darker. He closes his eyes and squeezes his mug so hard between his hand that it eventually shatters and breaks.

  
  
  


+

  
  
  


Chester cradles Mike in his arms. He’s not sure he’s ever seen this much blood.

  
  


“I’m scared,” Mike whispers, his eyes wide as they blink and stare up at Chester.

  
  


“I know,” Chester shivers, squeezing his friends hand, “I can hear sirens, someone will be here to help us soon.”

  
  


It’s a lie. All Chester can hear is mechanical laughter and the sound of people screaming.

  
  


Mike swallows and looks up at Chester who hates the way his best friend looks; lost and scared and Chester, he’d do anything to take this away. He racks his brain for something to say but really, what do you say to someone who’s bleeding to death? What do you say to someone when their arms and legs have been smashed into pieces?

  
  


Chester closes his eyes for a second because twenty minutes ago they were sitting on the couch at the front of the bus; Mike’s head in Chester’s lap; Mike gently pressing kisses to Chester’s hands; Chester giggling and telling him to behave in case someone walked in.

  
  


And now they’re on the floor and Mike’s finding it hard to breathe and there’s a truck staring them right in the face; the driver’s body hanging through the windscreen. And then there’s the smell of gasoline and the thick black smoke filling the small space around them.

  
  


Chester opens his eyes and tightens his hold on Mike. He feels blood dripping down from the cut in his forehead but ignores it and starts talking because he remembers from some TV show like ER or in the movies, when something like this happens they always talk, but about anything else than the fact the bus they’re travelling in has just been hit by a truck, flipped onto its side and is now burning to the ground.

  
  


“The crowd were really enthusiastic tonight,” Chester starts talking.

  
  


Mike nods, “Yeah,” He smiles, “Yeah they were.”

  
  


“And Rob’s drum solo just keeps on getting better and better, don’t you think?”

  
  


“Yeah,” Mike sniffs and clears his throat, “Yeah I think I’m in love with his solos. Just don’t let him know that though.”

  
  


“No!” Chester laughs, “We’d never hear the end of it. Y’know, I’m half waiting for the day Phi asks for a bass solo.”

  
  


“Oh you mean like, in a Flea from the Red Hot Chili Peppers style?!”

  
  


“Yes! Can you imagine that!?”

  
  


“Oh God, that would be so funny. I don’t think he’d like that sort of attention. He’d be embarrassed.”

  
  


“You mean like Brad? He hates guitar solos.”

  
  


“Yeah,” Mike nods, “I don’t get that. I mean surely as a guitarist he’s got to want to show off a little bit on stage. I think we have the most introverted set up. Apart from you obviously.”

  
  


“Hey! Are you calling me an extrovert…”

  
  


“That’s not the word I would use. I think flamboyant is more fitting.”

  
  


“Hmph.”

  
  


“It’s a compliment.”

  
  


“Oh really?!”

  
  


“Yes,” Mike grins, “I love you for it.”

  
  


There’s a moment then. Everything falls quiet and Chester bites his lip and Mike’s smile fades and they just stare at one another.

  
  


“I do… I do love you,” Mike speaks softly, “Despite everything that’s happened between us.”

  
  


Chester smiles. He doesn’t know what else to do because he knows damn well if he cries then he won’t stop and Mike will probably break down as well. He leans down and kisses Mike’s forehead.

  
  


“Fuck,” He sighs, “Mike you’re cold.”

  
  


“I know,” Mike nods.

  
  


Chester lets go of Mike for a second, reaches down for the hem of his jumper and pulls it up over his head. He wraps it around Mike, moves as much as he can so his arms are encircling Mike’s body even more.

  
  


“Thank you,” Mike whispers, his teeth beginning to chatter.

  
  


“I’m sorry for what I did,” Chester sighs, rubbing warmth into Mike’s hand, “I shouldn’t have taken you for granted. I was just scared Mike. Same old story I guess.”

  
  


“Scared?”

  
  


“Yeah, of what everyone would think when they found out I was the reason you left your girlfriend. That I was the reason you were in pieces when we were recording the album. I thought everyone would hate me and think I was a complete home wrecker. It’s a stupid notion, especially now I’m saying it out loud. And the past few weeks, me not being there for you, me being scared to let go of all those insecurities. I’m sorry Mike.”

  
  


“I can understand,” Mike nods, “It’s hard.”

  
  


“Can we start again?”

  
  


Mike frowns, “I thought we did already?”

  
  


“Yeah but this time as one, together, I mean,” Chester pauses, “I’m ready to tell the others.”

  
  


Mike smiles. It’s not even his trademark smile; it’s ten times that and Chester feels butterflies in his stomach, suddenly wants to jump to his feet and scream and tell everyone that he is in love with the most wonderful person on earth.

  
  


“I’d like that,” Mike sniffs, “I’d like that a lot.”

  
  


“Tomorrow then?” Chester asks.

  
  


“Tomorrow,” Mike nods.

  
  


The smoke is suddenly blacker but Chester blocks this out, along with the fact Mike is getting colder and his breathing is getting shallower and his eyes are starting to shut.

  
  


“Mike?”

  
  


“Yeah…”

  
  


“Don’t close your eyes Mike,” Chester whispers.

  
  


“Do you think anyone’s coming?”

  
  


Chester can’t answer this because according to the clock that’s been strewn across the floor, they’ve been trapped here for over thirty minutes.

  
  


“Chester?”

  
  


“We’re going to be okay Mike,” Chester tears his eyes from the red figures of the clock, “Just promise me you won’t close your eyes.”

  
  


Mike turns his head, resting it against Chester’s stomach. He curls his arms around Chester’s waist and the smoke, it carries on getting thicker.

  
  


“I can’t,” Mike whispers, “I can’t Chester…”

  
  


“No Mike,” Chester shakes him, “Keep your eyes open. Keep talking to me Mike. We’ve got so much to talk about, like the show tomorrow. What set are we going to play?”

  
  


“B,” Mike croaks out, “I like it when we end with Bleed It Out.”

  
  


“You do?”

  
  


“Yeah,” Mike nods, his voice muffled as he buries his head against Chester’s stomach, “Back to Rob’s drum solo…”

  
  


“Mike,” Chester shakes him.

  
  


“They’re not coming are they? No one’s coming for us.”

  
  


Something orange sparks up in the corner of Chester’s eye. He doesn’t need to look to see the flames. He gulps as the air around them gets darker and he gently lifts Mike’s body, sliding down so he’s resting beside him.

  
  


“Mike,” He whispers, “Mike you’ve got to be brave for me.”

  
  


“I’m scared though,” Mike winces, “I’m so fucking scared.”

  
  


Chester doesn’t tell Mike that he’s scared too. He doesn’t tell Mike about the fact he’s absolutely terrified of fire. He slides his arms around his body instead, presses his nose against Mike’s and wonders how his best friend can be so fucking cold when the flames around them are starting to burn Chester’s skin.

  
  


“Chester?”

  
  


“Yeah?”

  
  


“I’ve never been so happy than I am when I’m with you. I was thinking,” He pauses, “I’ll tell that to the others tomorrow, I think they’ll understand if I tell them that. They hate it when I’m down remember? They always tell me I need to get out of my bad moods. If they know that you’re the one who makes me smile then they’ll be okay with it Chaz, they’ll be fine. And then everything will get easier, right? I mean there’s bound to be some awkwardness at first but in time, I think everything’s going to be great…”

  
  


Chester starts to cry. Not because he’s burning to death or because Mike has closed his eyes and won’t wake up when he starts to shake him. Not because he can’t feel Mike’s breath on his face anymore or because it hurts when the flames start to creep up his back.

  
  


He cries because there is no tomorrow for him and Mike.

  
  


He cries because this is their end.

  
  
  


**FIN.**


End file.
